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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526360">Shoo, Q!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrathkitty/pseuds/wrathkitty'>wrathkitty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>As Q Like It [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Lower Decks (Cartoon), Star Trek: The Next Generation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bajoran Culture, Bat'leth (Star Trek), Comedy, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Hijinks &amp; Shenanigans, Humor, Idiots in Love, Klingon Bloodwine, Latinum, MLP inside jokes, No (Your name), Ogres and Oubliettes, Q (Star Trek) Antics, Q Being Q (Star Trek), Q Continuum, Reader-Insert, Remat Detonators, Romance, Romulan Ale, Snark, Star Trek: The Next Generation References, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek), Tribbles (Star Trek), Will Riker is flush with contraband, no y/n, pop culture references</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:28:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrathkitty/pseuds/wrathkitty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere in another life, Q and Mariner would have been BFFs.</p><p>This is not that life.</p><p>(A one-shot from the story "Hello, My Dear")</p><p> </p><p>Q stood leaning in the doorway, smirking.</p><p>"Omigod, you have friends now?!” Mariner exclaimed as you choked on your wine. She jumped to her feet. “Hi! I’m Mariner, resident bad influence and BFF...”</p><p>Her voice trailed off.</p><p> Before you could stop her, she had swiped the spray bottle up and already taken aim.</p><p> “No! Get out of here, Q!” she yelled, spritzing him right in the face. “Shoo!” </p><p> “Wait!” you wheezed, “I can explain...!”</p><p>She managed to fire off another couple of rounds before you finally wrestled the bottle away from her.</p><p>“You guys know each other?” you panted, shoving yourself between them.</p><p>“He did some redecorating when the Quito was docked at Deep Space Nine,” she answered, glaring. </p><p>“Au contraire,” Q retorted as he furiously swiped the water from his eyes. At that moment he bore a distinct resemblance to a wet, angry cat. “Turning a space station into a Cardassian chandelier hardly counts as 'redecorating.’”  </p><p>“I’m not French!” she shot back. “Go find Picard if you want to swap bonjours.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Q (Star Trek)/Original Female Character(s), Q (Star Trek)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>As Q Like It [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155218</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shoo, Q!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Credit to this goes to FannibalToast/plastic-heart!</p><p>(This takes place somewhere between Chapters 3 and 4.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You opened your door and were accosted by a thousand-watt grin, followed by an enthusiastic, bone-cracking hug. </p><p>“M-Mariner?” you stuttered in shock.  </p><p>“Long time, no see!” she crowed. She passed her bag off to you and bounded inside, saying, “I had some use-or-lose shore leave built up and thought I’d come hang out – oh my <em> GOD, </em> is that them?!” </p><p>Laughing, you tossed her bag on the bed and watched as she made a beeline for the terrarium.  </p><p>“They’re so cute!” she exclaimed. She gave you a sidelong look, “And you’re <em> sure </em> they’re not poisonous?” </p><p>“Very sure,” you said, walking over, “Otherwise I would’ve found some reason to get my troll of a supervisor to lick one of them.” </p><p>“You cleaning the tank or something?” She motioned to the plastic spray bottle of water sitting out on the floor. </p><p>“The humidity sensor’s gone bad. I was misting them.” </p><p>Mariner was already not paying attention again, frowning through the glass and scrutinizing R a little too closely. </p><p>“Why did you draw a whole bunch of Qs on his back?”  </p><p>“Her!” you said quickly. You grabbed your friend by the elbow and steered her away, saying, “It’s a her. How’ve you been? What’s new?”  </p><p>Mariner dove forward, flinging her arms out to do a full-body belly flop onto your bed.   </p><p>“Damn, I’ve missed these mattresses,” she complained. “Bunks on the <em> Quito </em> are <em> so </em> less than five star.” </p><p>“You could always put in for a transfer back here,” you pointed out, grinning.  </p><p>“I love you, man, but then I’d actually have to go back to doing work. It’s against my religion.” She rolled onto her back and peered at you upside down. “Where’s the hooch?” </p><p>“The bottle of Klingon blood wine we didn’t finish from your going-away party?” you exclaimed. “That’s long gone.” </p><p>“Lush,” she solemnly informed you. "It’s okay, I came prepared.”  </p><p>She sat up, made a long reach for her bag and popped opened the lid.  </p><p>“I stopped by Riker’s place on my way down,” she said matter-of-factly, rummaging through the contents. “And by stopped by, I mean I broke in.” She hauled out a youth-sized bat’leth and tossed it aside, “You’d think a guy who’s one artificial heart attack away from the Captain’s chair would know not to use ‘password’ as his door code,” three Bajoran earrings and a tribble landed on the covers next to the bat’leth. “Oh, here, happy early birthday...” </p><p>A small silver cube came flying at you. </p><p>“Where the hell did you come across a Remat detonator?” you exclaimed, catching it in one hand.  </p><p>“One of my many souvenirs from the sentient cave.” She pulled out a bar of counterfeit latinum, frowned at it thoughtfully, and stuffed it back into the bag. “Anyway, he owed me a favor and I decided it was time for him to pay up – <em> found it!”  </em> </p><p>She triumphantly held up an unopened bottle of Klingon bloodwine. </p><p>“And there’s plenty more where this came from, too,” she cackled as you let out an appreciative whistle and went to look for some cups. She twisted the cap off with her teeth. “He's got, like, five more bottles stashed in his trombone case.” </p><p>“So then where does he keep the trombone?”  </p><p>“It’s duct taped under his side of the conference room table, duh. Why else do you think he always insists on assigned seats?” </p><p>“I try to avoid anything involving the senior staff, remember?” You happily plopped down on the bed beside her with two cups in hand and ordered, “Pour.” </p><p>“Your wish is my command!” she exclaimed, filling them to the top.  </p><p>Laughing, you clinked glasses and settled in for a much-needed evening of boozing. Mariner had been a terrible roommate, but she was the only one on your team who appreciated a well-orchestrated passive aggressive prank, and you had started missing her the instant she left for the <em> Quito. </em> </p><p>You had barely lifted your cup to your mouth when a tall shadow unexpectedly fell across the floor, followed by a drawled, “Well, now doesn’t this look <em> cozy.” </em>  </p><p> Q stood casually leaning in the doorway, smirking. </p><p>"Omigod, you have friends now?!” Mariner delightedly exclaimed as you choked on your wine and fell into a coughing fit. She leapt to her feet, grinning. “Hi! I’m Mariner, resident bad influence and BFF...” </p><p>Her voice trailed off. </p><p>Before you could stop her, she had swiped the spray bottle up from the floor and already taken aim. </p><p>“No! Get out of here, Q!” she yelled, spritzing him right in the face. “Shoo!”  </p><p>“Wait!” you wheezed, clumsily bolting up, “I can explain...!” </p><p>She managed to fire off another couple of rounds before you finally wrestled the bottle away from her.  </p><p>“You guys know each other?” you panted, shoving yourself between them. </p><p>“He did some redecorating when the <em> Quito </em> was docked at <em> Deep Space Nine </em>a couple of weeks ago,” she answered, glaring.  </p><p><em> “Au contraire </em>,” Q retorted as he furiously swiped the water from his eyes. At that moment he bore a distinct resemblance to a wet, angry cat. “Turning a space station into a Cardassian chandelier hardly counts as 'redecorating.’”   </p><p>“I’m not French!” she shot back. “Go find Picard if you want to swap bonjours.” </p><p>“What are you doing here, Mariner?” Q demanded as she walked away to return to her drink, “Other than using up atmosphere?” </p><p>“C’mon,” she scoffed. She knocked back the rest of her wine and wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist. “You think I’d forget my best friend’s birthday?” </p><p>He frowned. </p><p>“Her birthday’s not for another three months.” </p><p><em> “HA!” </em> She slammed her glass down on the nightstand and triumphantly pointed her finger at him. “I <em> knew </em> it! You wouldn’t bother knowing a <em> mere mortal’s,” </em>she spoke the words using air quotes, “birthday unless you actually gave a shit about them...” </p><p>This was about as bad as introducing a high school crush to your parents. </p><p>“…And I’ve got a week’s shore leave,” she continued, turning back to you with an evil smile. “So spill the tea.”  </p><p>“How does she know about the tea?” Q asked you suspiciously. </p><p>Nope, it was worse.  </p><p>"There is no tea,” you snapped. “Metaphorical or otherwise. I don’t want to talk about this, Mariner!” </p><p><em> “Fiiiine,” </em>she groaned, relenting. She held your cup out to you as a peace offering. “I’ll stop asking questions, promise.” </p><p>“You and I both know that means absolutely nothing,” you muttered as you switched the spray bottle to your other hand and reached for the wine.    </p><p>“Poor Reg,” she added mournfully. “I hope you let him down easy. This must have just broken his heart.” </p><p>You were going to murder her.  </p><p>“‘Reg?’” Q repeated. His eyes shot over to you once more. “The holodeck sycophant?” </p><p>“For the last goddamn time, we’re just friends!” you screeched defensively. </p><p>“Then why does he keep asking you to help him with his newest program?”  </p><p>“Because he knows I’m good at writing holodex code that won’t get him lit!” </p><p>“Oh, please,” Q jeered, “The longing looks he sends in your direction would make any self-respecting –” </p><p>“I thought you said you weren’t spying on me,” you accused, rounding on him. </p><p>He took a hasty step back. </p><p>“I’m not spying on you,” he insisted. </p><p>“Then how else would you know about Reg’s ‘longing looks?’” </p><p>“Well, my dear, it’s really quite <em> simple– ” </em> </p><p>Whoops of laughter interrupted your argument. You both turned to see Mariner doubled over, almost crying with mirth as she listened to this exchange. </p><p>“Oh — my — God,” she puffed, slapping one knee as she guffawed, “You — you made Q your <em> bitch!” </em> </p><p>Q threateningly lifted his hand, stone-faced.  </p><p>You raised the spray bottle with a firm, “No.” </p><p>“You've gone out with some weirdos before,” Mariner was saying, still giggling, “but this as about as bad as dating a Harvongian shape-changer.” </p><p>“We’re not dating!” you protested. </p><p>“What’s so bad about Harvongian shape-changers?” Q muttered behind you. </p><p>“What kind of bizarro arrangement is this, anyway?” Mariner refilled her cup, not buying your excuse. “Frenemies with benefits?” She looked straight at Q’s crotch and then over at you. “Does he even <em> have </em> all his parts?” </p><p>She watched you over the rim of her glass as you choked again on your bloodwine. </p><p>“He’s hung like a Ken doll. Got it.” </p><p>“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Q smarmily chimed in. “Sadly, there shall be no private viewing of the crown jewels tonight. Another time, perhaps.” </p><p>"It’s a date,” Mariner said with a snort, raising her glass in salute. </p><p>Your third choking fit of the evening commenced.  </p><p>“Speaking of, isn’t time for you to be leaving?” Q unctuously continued, “I have it on good authority that there’s a black hole nearby that’s just dying, <em> dying </em>to meet you.” </p><p>“I just got here, man,” Mariner snickered, “And you better believe that I’m planning on overstaying my welcome. Seriously, though,” her voice sobered, and she turned her gaze back to you. “Even I wouldn’t stoop to this level of this dumbassery, and you <em> know </em> the kind of shit I’ve done.” </p><p>You cringed, still trying to catch your breath from coughing. You did know the kind of shit Mariner had done. Likewise, however, she knew the futility of trying to pry a story out of you before you were ready, and your omnipotent partner in crime certainly wasn’t about to fill her in. </p><p>When you refused to reply and Q was starting the fourth round of examining his nails, she finally groaned in resignation and kicked back again on the bed. </p><p>“Hey, garçon,” she said, snootily snapping her fingers at him. “Refill.” She ignored his icy glare and expectantly pointed to her now-empty cup. “I’d like a red. Not too dry. And make sure it’s had time to breathe,” she added, “’Cause we fancy.” </p><p>Q took a menacing step forward, then caught the pleading look in your eyes. Couldn't he at least pretend to tolerate her for one night? </p><p>He sighed.  </p><p>Two sparkling crystal glasses appeared on the nightstand, along with a freshly uncorked bottle of Bordeaux. Mariner didn’t hesitate to help herself, and curiously examined the label on the bottle after filling both glasses to the top.  </p><p>“Chateau Picard 2398?” she read aloud. “Huh. Is this stuff really twenty years from now or are you just trying to impress me?” She took a sip, hummed appreciatively, then added, “’Cause it’s totally working.” </p><p>You looked accusingly at Q. </p><p>“You promised not skip ahead into my future!” </p><p>“Different timeline,” he answered, sounding bored. “Your Captain at the age of ninety-four is just as dull, plodding, and pedantic as the current version, by the way. Apparently the <em> vino </em>ages far better than the vintner.”  </p><p>“So, the way I see it,” Mariner interjected, changing the subject, “You’ve got three options.” </p><p>“Oh, we have options now?” Q muttered to himself, “How very nice.” </p><p>“Hush your mouth,” she scolded, “The grownups are talking.” </p><p>You warningly brandished the spray bottle again at Q. He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. </p><p>“Door number one,” she continued, observing these proceedings with interest, “I rat you out to Captain Picard, like, yesterday. Which we know I’m not gonna do, so...”  </p><p>“Actually, Jean-Luc already his suspicions,” Q shrugged. “After my redecorating, he sent Sisko a copy of his personal logs from all the times I’ve dropped by the <em> Enterprise. </em> Which has been a <em> bit </em>more often as of late.” </p><p>“Why would that make Captain Picard suspicious?” you asked, puzzled. “You haven’t done anything on the ship to tip people off.” </p><p>Q flashed a quick smile. </p><p>“Correct, my perspicacious little Ensign. Unfortunately, Jean-Luc is gifted with far greater powers of observation than the average ‘people.’ I've noticed your name coming up much more frequently these days when he writes in his dear diary.” </p><p>The light bulb clicked on.  </p><p>“How frequently?” you asked, dreading the answer. </p><p>Q went to reply, decided this news would be better received with another round of liquid courage and turned to pour you the glass of wine that Mariner was already holding out to him.  </p><p>“Let me put it this way...”  </p><p>He took the spray bottle from you and handed you the cup, waiting until you had numbly emptied your glass before he continued. </p><p>“...After you recover from the hangover you will inevitably wake up with in the morning, we need to have a little chat about my previous offer to tweak the memories of a few key players.”  </p><p>“Or maybe just try to fly a little more under the radar and stop turning space stations into tchotchkes,” Mariner retorted. She sounded completely unconcerned. “Anyway,” she poured herself another glass, continuing, “Door number two – I keep your secret, but Q*Bert over there gives me his powers for a day.” </p><p>“Give the likes of <em> you </em>the power of the Q?” He let out a hoot of laughter. “I’d sooner help Worf win a beauty contest.” </p><p>“What about a consolation prize?” you suggested. The wine’s effects were already starting to dull the edge on your anxiety and suddenly the world seemed much more cheerful. </p><p>“If it’s hiding the rest of my Remat detonators, the answer’s no and by the way you do not want to touch those earrings.” </p><p>Q immediately made a move in their direction. </p><p>“Wanna play a live action game of <em> Ogres and Oubliettes? </em>” you asked, grabbing his sleeve and hauling him back to your side.  </p><p>“Hello, Holodeck?” She swirled the last dregs of wine in her glass, unimpressed. “Live action <em> O&amp;O </em> is, like, Tuesday.” </p><p>“Yeah, but have you ever played it inside a warp core reactor?” </p><p>She instantly perked up. </p><p>“As in <em> inside </em>inside?” </p><p>“Q runs <em> the </em> best campaigns, too,” you told her, getting excited. It had been ages since you and Mariner played <em> O&amp;O. </em> “You'll love the character he made, it’s a draconequus named –” </p><p>“I don’t care how adorably intoxicated you are; you’re pushing it, <em> Ensign,” </em>Q interrupted from between set teeth. </p><p>“Please?” you asked hopefully. </p><p>He peered down at you, unconvinced. </p><p>“Act cute,” Mariner whispered loudly, “Bat your eyelashes or something.” </p><p>“I’ll let you fix my hangover in the morning,” you offered, hanging onto his arm. </p><p>“Done,” he agreed curtly. Your refusal to let him use his powers to assist you in any way, shape, or form was endlessly vexing to him. “But this is a one-time favor. I am not a standby lackey.” </p><p>“Nope, you’re one better,” Mariner crowed. She hopped to her feet and pointed to the Bordeaux. “You’re our fucking sommelier. Lead on, Pierre!” </p><p>“Don’t you people have some kind of adage about ‘three’s a crowd?’” Q asked her testily as she walked past him in the direction of the door. “Specifically, <em> you </em>being the crowd?” </p><p>“We’ve also got ‘The more, the merrier.’ Or in your case, the more, the Mariner. Thanks, I’ll be here all night.”  </p><p>“A problem I would be more than happy to rectify,” he declared, proffering her a smile that was all teeth.</p><p>“Ooh, look at me, I’m so scared of the big bad Q,” she cackled, waggling her fingers, then exclaimed, "Oh, hey! That’s a song!” </p><p>Q went rigid as you flung both of your arms around him to try and stave off a potential finger snap.   </p><p>“Where are you going?” you called after her, glancing back over your shoulder. </p><p>“To go raid Riker’s trombone case. This game is gonna be an all-nighter. Be back in five!” </p><p>She sailed out the door, humming the melody from <em> Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf. </em> </p><p>“You’re not allowed to turn her into anything,” you informed Q as soon as she left. You tilted your chin up to look at him and added, “Especially not a frog.” </p><p>His mouth thinned, but you could tell he was having to put effort into looking annoyed. </p><p>“That still leaves me a wealth of options,” he pointed out, lifting an eyebrow. </p><p>“Oh. Well, you’re not allowed to do any of those, either.” </p><p>Your brain was too pleasantly marinated in bloodwine and Bordeaux to pay much attention as Q eased out of your bearhug – but you became keenly aware of your pulse going into double-time when his arms loosely came back around you. </p><p>Had he always been this tall?  </p><p>“I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, you know,” he said suddenly, distracting you from trying to decide if you were <em> just </em>tipsy enough to lean into him with your cheek against his chest. “In fact...” Something over the top of your head caught his attention. “Is that a tribble?” </p><p>You turned to follow his gaze and saw him interestedly studying the marshmallow-colored furball resting on your bed. </p><p>“Yeah,” you nodded as he stepped away and went to pick it up. “Mariner keeps the weirdest stuff in her luggage.” </p><p>“Hold that thought, darling,” he said suddenly. He briskly tucked the purring creature under an arm, all smiles again. “I need to drop off a token of appreciation for one of your colleagues.” </p><p>Did he just call you…? </p><p>Q’s jaunty wink was the last thing you saw before he vanished. </p><p>You calmly walked to your bed, laid down, screamed once into your pillow, and then sat up again. </p><p>“Computer, what’s the location of Lieutenant Worf?” </p><p><em> “Lieutenant Worf is currently on the Bridge.” </em> </p><p>“Computer, what’s the location of comm badge serial number 47ALPHAQ?” </p><p><em> “Comm badge serial number 47ALPHAQ is currently on the Bridge.” </em> </p><p>“Sorry, guys,” you said aloud, and poured yourself another glass of Bordeaux. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"Hello, My Dear" is now part of a series! Subscribe to <i>As Q Like It</i> if you want to keep up with the additional [not in chronological order] shenanigans of Q and Ensign Reader.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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